


Kurt Hummel's Guide to Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse

by rightonthelimit



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M, Zombie!Klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonthelimit/pseuds/rightonthelimit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the virus breaks out it quickly spreads, until even the most intelligent of men have fallen. 17 year old Blaine Anderson has miraculously survived and he is one of the few people left on earth. He finds Kurt’s video diary, who helps him in ways Blaine had never thought possible, and Blaine quickly finds himself growing obsessed with someone he never met before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kurt Hummel's Guide to Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Zombieland and this manip; http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mb8s9lZSeV1qi2988o1_r2_1280.jpg

**A/N: Please do not repost, recreate or translate.**

**Kurt Hummel’s Guide to Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse**

There was a rabbit in the distance, and Blaine Anderson’s gun was aimed at it.

The rumbling of his empty stomach was the only audible sound in the entire woods and his body was barely visible from where it was lying flat on the dewy meadow. He was hungry – his fingers were trembling around the trigger because of it, and he’s lost so much weight that he barely even fitted his clothes anymore.

Of course, his weight was currently the last thing on his mind. Things like appearance became rather fickle when your life was constantly in danger.

Blaine gazed at the rabbit. It seemed completely unaware of the world around itself, a word in which people had started eating other people and ruined the world humanity had spent hundreds of years building up. The hunger for flesh overruled common sense, and the need to survive overruled that what was right and wrong. It's been like that for a long time now.

But sometimes, Blaine had issues with accepting everything for the way it was right now.

Blaine studied the rabbit's white fur. It was pristine, clean – to make something so innocent, so  _normal_ bleed, would be a sin.

Ignoring his rumbling stomach and the knowledge that it would take him a long time before he would find something to eat again, Blaine lowered his gun. The rabbit kept munching on grass and then sped off when Blaine rose to his normal height.

Stupid? Yes. Blaine cared too much, has been tricked so much throughout his entire life that it was almost outrageous to think that he of all people was the last one out there. Everyone had died and towns, countries, entire continents have perished. If you were to consider Blaine’s sentimentality toward everything fluffy and cute, and were to think about the fact that the only thing Blaine knew of zombies and of what to do during an apocalypse was from what he had seen in movies, Blaine indeed seem like an unlikely survivor.

Blaine bit his lip and gazed into the direction the rabbit had sped off into, his hands hanging a bit uselessly by his sides.

But then again, only few people had so little ties with others as Blaine used to have. He only had his brother of which Blaine was uncertain if he had survived or not, parents who had never really loved him, and Blaine never really had friends. He's always been a bit of a loner, the bullying had left him no other choice. Perhaps that was what, quite ironically, had saved his life.

Movies had been surprisingly helpful, however. Blaine had quickly learned to avoid towns and that people could trick him, though admittedly he’s been living such a secluded life in the woods in his dad’s old cabin that he didn’t have a clue what life outside was truly like. He’d driven off the day fires had started in his neighborhood, the day his neighbor had tried to eat him alive. There’d been nothing but warnings on the radio and when Blaine tried to turn on the radio nowadays, there was nothing but static. It was like the entire world had just been wiped out and Blaine was slowly losing his mind. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t anymore. He always clutched his dad’s old shotgun like it was his last lifeline, had stolen his weapons from the local weapon store, but even now Blaine sometimes wondered what the use of this was anymore. He lost count of the days that passed and he felt old and worn. Jaded beyond his years.

Blaine slowly made his way to the car he had recently stolen, still initially feeling guilty even though its owner was already dead. Blaine had to pry her cold, dead fingers off the steering wheel. There had been a pole through her chest – she had an car accident in her need to get away from town, undoubtedly. Her car was fine after a quick refill of oil.

Dropping his gun onto the passenger's seat with a defeated sigh, Blaine closed his eyes briefly. He was lonely. He had been lonely for all of his life, he knew -  with parents who only cared about his brother, a brother who essentially had only cared about himself and classmates who only cared for bullying Blaine, it was hard not to be. It was silly to miss something you had never known but there was still a craving for love inside of Blaine that he couldn’t still.

And truly, his need for love was that what made him so different from zombies in his constant conquest to stay alive.

Blaine forced down the empty feeling inside of him that had nothing to do with hunger and started up the car. He wasn't very good at hunting, to be honest. Blaine's aim had gotten better as time had passed, but he was wasting bullets with this too. He knew he couldn't keep it up like this.

It was time to hit town.

 

* * *

Perhaps what Blaine missed most about his old life, was music.

Blaine used to be a member of the glee club at his old school and even if his fellow members didn’t take it half as seriously as Blaine used to do, he loved it there. He loved performing, singing, showing off the only thing he was good in. Whenever he stood on that stage he felt alive, he felt like he belonged.

Blaine hasn’t sung since the virus broke out.

As he clutched his gun tightly and focused on the sound of his own footsteps, he couldn’t help but be acutely aware of how eerie this silence was. Everything was covered in dust or was busy decomposing and falling into pieces. It was like the world had never been a happy place before. For Blaine, it never really had been anyway, but at least it used to have potential.

The bell above Blaine’s head jingled when he stepped into an old supermarket and he winced, knocking a few things over to draw some attention to himself and see if there were zombies in this place. He was always hyperaware of every noise (how could he not be?) but he had to be sure he was here alone.

Blaine waited, but there came no reply. It was hard to tell if a town was infested with zombies or not – now that there wasn’t much to eat for them anymore, zombies ate each other, and started walking around aimlessly until they did find food.

People.

There was not much intact and the smell of rotting meat was overwhelming. Blaine paused to pull the collar of his shirt up to cover his nose and frowned, walking over to the canned goods. When people were afraid, they tended not to think at all. No one went for the cans of food, bottles of water. Such items were too heavy to take with you when you were on the run.

Blaine had all the time in the world, so that really wasn’t an issue to him.

Blaine released a soft sigh and took off his backpack to shove whatever he could into his bag. Once he was done, the strain on his shoulders was immense and he opened a can of diet coke. It’s been a while since he had anything like this and it was like a sudden assault to his taste buds. He’s been living off water for so long that this was a welcome refreshment, no pun intended.

Blaine choked on his sip when he saw something move in the corner of his eye and dropped the can loudly, spilling it all over his shoes. Cursing under his breath, he went to pick up the can and blinked when he caught sight of a video camera instead. It was lying innocently on the floor and as Blaine leaned a bit more forward, he gagged. It hadn't been rotting food he'd been smelling, then.  
  
There was a torn open, rotting corpse lying on the floor. The male's skull was cracked open and maggots were crawling into it, feasting upon his brain. He was missing an arm, his chest was cracked open and his ribs were sticking out, and he was missing his eyes too. It looked like they'd been stabbed with a sharp object. Birds, Blaine reasoned. They went for anything shiny.  
  
Blaine finally managed to tear his eyes off the gruesome sight before him, picked up the camera with vague interest and tried to turn it on. Batteries were dead, figured. A rat ran past his feet and Blaine yelped and quickly picked up his backpack, grabbing a couple packs of batteries and quickly walking out with his gun tucked into his waistband and the camera in his hands. He tossed it on the passenger’s seat of the car, and then started driving.  
  
Blaine couldn't sleep that night, but that was nothing new. The scent of death hung in his nostrils and he couldn't get rid of it no matter what he did, and seeing that town like that was confronting. There had always been that childish hope inside of Blaine that he had fleed for nothing - that the world had been restored again.  
  
Childish, obviously. Blaine sighed and stared at the camera for a little bit longer, frowning. It was nothing fancy - just a simple hand camera, but Blaine was more curious as to what was on it. Obviously it must've belonged to the dead man at the supermarket... What was on it that was so important for him to hold onto it? He fumbled a bit with the batteries and then managed to pop them in properly, pausing a bit without reason. He was being silly, he knew this, but for some reason he was nervous. Blaine blamed it on the lack of sleep and the nightmares that haunted him when he did manage to fall asleep.

With a frown on his face, Blaine turned the camera on and started watching what was on it.

_‘Is this thing on?’_

A boy who couldn’t be older than 17 blinked his pretty blue eyes at the camera. He was standing too close to it and all that the lens could record was half of his face, but what Blaine could see made him wince. He was covered in bruises – normally it would’ve raised questions as to whether or not this boy had abusive relatives. Sitting up a bit straighter and amazed by how good the teen's voice sounded (or maybe it was just the fact that Blaine had been starved to see and hear another person for so long, that that clouded his judgment?), Blaine blinked into the darkness and kept staring at the camera. His fingers were shaking around it.

_‘Um. So – assuming it is. It’s the 20 th of June, 2012. I’m not sure what time it is but the sun just rose so I’d say it’s early.’_

But given the date the boy just uttered, it was completely normal for him to have bruises. It was more of a surprise that the boy was alive at this point. This was recorded right after the virus had started spreading.

Anticipation rose in Blaine’s chest.

 _‘I didn’t get much sleep. I broke into a house and I fell asleep on that bed -’_ The boy picked up the camera and pointed it at a bed with rumpled sheets, and then he pointed it outside. There were cars burning and people with hunched shoulders walking outside, dragging their feet. There was a woman screaming for help and she was being eaten alive.

Zombies.

_‘- and I woke up to this. Apparently it hadn’t been a bad dream. Figured.’_

Blaine shuddered as memories of the past came rushing back to him and he closed his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath. The teen on the camera released a soft noise and then placed the camera back to where it had been standing on. Blaine could take a proper look on him, now - he was wearing a black v-neck t shirt, his pale skin bruised and scraped up, his hair a bit messy but his face unmistakably attractive. The teen ran a frustrated hand through his hair and lowered his eyes, cradling his head in his hands for a minute. It almost seemed like he was about to cry but when he looked back into the lens again he looked determined.

_‘My name is Kurt Hummel and I’m currently in Lima, Ohio. I’m one of the few survivors of whatever it is that’s been going on recently, and I’m not sure how long I have left to live.’_

Kurt scowled and closed his eyes for a moment. Lima… that wasn’t far from where Blaine had grown up at all. Blaine kept gazing at Kurt’s face, shocked to find his own fingers tracing the shape of Kurt’s nose on the small screen. Kurt was handsome, one of the most beautiful boys Blaine had ever lied his eyes on, and he wondered where Kurt was now. He wondered if Kurt was still somewhere out there and then found himself hoping that Kurt was okay.

_‘It’s been 2 days since the virus spread. I’ve been living off Cheetohs and other junkfood, but I’m hungry nonetheless. So are those… Things outside. It feels like I’m in a bad horror movie or something.’_

Kurt turned his head away and got up, pacing a bit. He bit his bottom lip and ran his hands through his hair again. It looked like he's been doing that a lot, or maybe he had just woken up. It was hard to tell but from what Blaine could see, Kurt was debauched, barely keeping it together. Blaine didn’t even want to begin thinking about how he himself looked.

_‘2 days since people started eating each other. I don’t know what life’s like outside of this country. It spread so fast… I guess I’m recording this for future reference or whatever. I’ll probably die in less than a week anyway, I can’t hunt and my only weapon is a stupid baseball bat. My dad and stepmother… I have no idea if they’re alive. They went on a honeymoon to Hawaii. I hope those hula-dancing bastards didn’t start getting an appetite for human flesh.’_

Kurt abruptly stopped pacing. A pained look crossed his features and his voice wavered a bit when he spoke next. Blaine was hanging on every word Kurt spoke.

 _‘I hope that you, whoever you are, won’t have to go through this. And if I randomly pop up and try to start munching on your fingers like they’re popsicles on a hot summer day, well…’_ The teen shrugged now and he offered the camera a watery smile. He was entirely charming and endearing somehow. Blaine thought it had something to do with the vulnerability in his voice, _‘…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was probably stupid enough to get bitten and I’ll greatly appreciate it if you’ll pop a bullet between my eyes.’_

Kurt sat down again. He looked restless - he never managed to sit still. It was like he was on drugs. If his viewers had any common sense they’d see he was high on adrenaline.

 _‘I just want to go home,_ ’ Kurt whispered. He looked older all of a sudden and he closed his eyes tightly again, sniffling. He frowned and rubbed at his cheeks _. ‘I know I can’t. I just gotta be strong, you know, and… And…’_

Kurt seemed at a loss for words again. He shrugged. Blaine wanted to hold him.

 _‘Keep moving, I guess. I’m all alone now. I don’t know who is still alive and who is dead. I only know that those…_ zombies  _are hungry. They chew on human bones like they’re chew toys…’_

He bit his lip at almost the exact time Blaine currently did.

 _‘I guess you’re probably wondering if I’m batshit insane for talking about them. Like this. Like it’s some kind of joke. Everyone I love is probably dead. I’m sure that if I get all serious all of a sudden, I’ll… I’ll really lose it. I’m terrified. I don’t even have something to kill myself with, let alone kill any of those who want to kill_ me _.’_

Kurt inhaled a sharp breath through his nose. There was a quiver in his lips. His cheek looked swollen and he had a cut above his eyebrow and there wasn’t a doubt on Blaine’s mind that Kurt probably already had to fight for his life a couple of times. He wondered what horrors those pretty eyes of Kurt have seen, wondered if Blaine would ever possess the ability to console him. Kurt looked so kind. He looked like someone Blaine could’ve been friends with.

_‘Here are the things I do know. They may be useful, so grab a notebook because this thing runs on batteries and those will die some day.’_

Kurt allowed himself to smirk a bit, like he was proud of himself. Blaine smirked along with him because he had been clever enough to grab 5 packs of batteries on his way out today. He was one step ahead of Kurt.

 _‘First; boil your water. Always. This kills all bacterias and you don’t know what kind of stuff has been in it. Seriously, just do it. Second; do not, and I repeat, do_ not  _touch the zombies. I don’t care if it’s a life or death situation. They’ll rip off your skin and wear your guts as a fancy hat if they get the chance.’_ Kurt paused, thinking to himself.  _‘Get some weapons. Do not trust anyone. They’ll use you and then leave you off to die as soon as they get the chance. I don’t care if they're cute – they might be infected for all you know. Do not. Trust anyone.’_

Something in Kurt’s eyes made it seem like he had made this mistake beforehand. There was no telling. He didn’t elaborate.

_‘Find edible plants. Cut off your hair, it’ll only get in the way. Don’t chew your nails – you don't know what's underneath them. And last but not least, find a quick way of transportation.’_

Kurt’s eyebrows drew together. He was probably trying to come up with more things, but he seemed to have trouble with it. Eventually he released a long sigh, his pretty pink lips parting and his shoulders rising and falling with the effort of it. He looked tired, especially for someone who had just woken up and Blaine knew the feeling like no other. Every morning when he woke up he felt more tired than he did before falling asleep. The days just melted together, becoming one heavy clump of time that weighed down on Blaine's shoulders until it was hard to even get up sometimes.

 _‘Whoever you are, I hope you’re safe. I… I know it’s difficult.’_ Kurt smiled bitterly and this time he did release a choked little sob. _‘But no matter how hard it gets, no matter who you lose… know that you’re not the only one out there. There have to be more survivors. Just follow these simple steps and you’ll be fine.’_

Kurt looked into the lens with a vulnerable look in his eyes and then he seemed to want to say something else. He didn’t seem to be able to come up with anything. There were gunshots outside of his house and he gasped and got up.

He shut the camera off and Blaine paused, because he knew he'd spend all night watching Kurt if he wouldn't.

Blaine lied on his back, hair in messy curls on top of his head, guns strapped to his hips and legs. He stared at the little camera in his hands, rewinding the video and staring at the boy’s face with a thoughtful expression on his own. Blaine hadn’t seen another human being in three months now and the silence somehow seemed to hurt his ears even more than usual now that he was reminded what it was like to have someone, although indirectly, talking to him. He hadn’t watched half of what the boy had recorded, not even close to a quarter.

The body hadn't been Kurt's, of that Blaine was certain. He must’ve lost his camera at some point, and the dead person Blaine had found must've thought that Kurt's words were useful. Perhaps he had been killed when he'd been on his way to get new batteries.

Blaine wondered where Kurt was now. He huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. Strange.

He placed the camera into his backpack along with the packages of batteries he had nicked and started driving again. There was no use in staying still if he couldn’t sleep anyway and Blaine knew like no other that zombies were most active during the night.

Blaine had always been an einzelganger, he supposed. But it hadn’t been until people had started eating other people that he had come to realize just how  _quiet_ life had been when he had been surrounded with actual human beings instead of, in Kurt’s words,  _zombies._

Most of the things Kurt had said would’ve been obvious, but Blaine knew that some people were stupid enough to make these mistakes in the first place. Even one small mistake could cost you your life nowadays.

Money no longer could get you any comfort. Love? Right now there was none of it. People were selfish and desperate, damaged and cruel. No one cared for their fellow human beings anymore. Love. It seemed like nothing but a huge hoax now, a joke played upon society by Hollywood movies and attractive actors and actresses. If love was the only thing that human beings really needed then zombies would’ve been notorious for their random hugs, not persistent hunger for flesh.

Blaine inhaled a deep breath through his nose and put the key into the ignition.

Boiling water was clever though. Why hadn’t Blaine come up with that when he used to be a boy scout? He supposed his brains had left him for a while. He couldn’t think.

But the upcoming days when he did think, he thought of blue eyes and pink lips.

 

* * *

When Blaine got back to his cabin he got rid of the traps he had set up, set up new ones, went inside and locked all of his doors with practiced ease. It was more a process than anything and as he carried his cans of food inside and started up the generator, he lit a few candles in his wake and settled down into the couch.

The candles cast a weak glow upon his handsome face but Blaine’s expression made him look old – far older than he in reality was. To be confronted with the existence of another person was oddly disconcerting because death has been such a huge part of his life, that normalcy almost seemed unobtainable. Of course, Blaine could pretend when he was in this cabin that everything was okay but it wasn’t quite the same.

Blaine sighed and grabbed the camera, staring at it for a little while. This had belonged to Kurt not too long ago – it was September now if Blaine should believe the calendar in the bathroom. Only a few months ago, Kurt had used this to record himself. He had carried this with him in the hopes that one day, his advice would help someone. A stranger Kurt didn’t even know.

It was strange to think that this truly had been a selfless act when all his life Blaine had known nothing but selfish people. Kurt seemed so likeable… Like someone Blaine would’ve fallen in love with, someone he would’ve taken on dates, had things been different. Once again life proved that Blaine was always shit out of luck and never took the expected turns.

He turned on the camera and it started exactly where Blaine had stopped watching. Kurt looked worse than he had looked in his previous recording – he looked completely out of it. He was covered in blood and the cut on his forehead was healing into a neat, pink little scar. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slack like he couldn’t believe his own words. He was shaking.

And still, he was the most beautiful boy Blaine had ever seen.

_‘First of August, 2012. I just… I just killed someone.’_

Kurt’s voice was soft but so very loud, seeing as it was the only sound in the cabin, and Blaine could feel his shoulders slump.  _Oh._

 _‘I found a gun in the house I was staying at two weeks ago. Or three weeks, I don’t know. I found bullets too, and I just… She was walking toward me and she wanted to bite me, and I was so – I, I…’_ Kurt pressed a hand against his mouth. He looked like he was going to be sick _. ‘I blew her brains out. Shot her dead.’_

Kurt paused. The camera was shaking in his hands and Blaine sucked in a deep breath. He didn’t understand why he was so surprised – killing was part of life nowadays, but he had somehow hoped that Kurt never had to go through something like that.

_‘Right now I’m at a lake. I ran from the house into the backyard and climbed through a hole in the fence to a forest. So far no signs of life.’_

He aimed the camera down. A couple of leafs rustled.

 _‘I’m sitting in a tree because as far as I know zombies can’t climb trees and they won’t see me from up here. As long as I’m not bleeding I should be fine.’_ Kurt’s grip on the camera seemed to slip a bit and he cursed. Blaine could see a flash of a blue sign stuck in the road and then it was aimed to Kurt’s face again. He was leaning his back against the tree, looking a bit calmer… Maybe numbed, even. _‘They can smell blood. So as soon as you get hurt, run as fast as you can and disinfect yourself. Find some water and clean your wound and take off the clothes that got covered in it.’_

Blaine frowned and paused the video as his fingers tapped on the side of the camera. He remembered the first time he had killed a zombie – how sick he’d been with himself, how much he had hated himself. Blaine still didn’t take joy out of killing zombies but his depression and self-hatred had gradually lessened into a numbness, a hollow feeling that only grew bigger when confronted with the emptiness that had become his life. Kurt seemed so kindhearted and Blaine couldn’t imagine what it might’ve done to someone like him, someone so… Like Blaine.

Still, Blaine felt relieved he had made it out okay and hadn’t frozen up. But that wasn’t what Blaine was thinking about.

He had recognized that blue sign from somewhere. He had seen it before, Blaine was just so sure of it… He rewinded the tape and paused it, studying it for a long time.

And then it hit him.

Kurt used to be here, in these very woods. He was in Blaine’s reach all this time and Blaine hadn’t found him at all.

 

* * *

Blaine scanned the entire area twice the following day.

He found no trace of Kurt. No scrap of clothing, no footsteps, no trash, nothing. The teen knew how to hide himself.

Blaine was horribly disappointed with the outcome of his efforts.

It’s been so long since he had an intelligent conversation, so long since he had someone to just be with. It got to him and more than often Blaine found himself cursing out loud at things, voicing his thoughts without intending to. He was losing himself. He was losing his manners, the way he used to carry himself – everything seemed so fickle, so fragile.

All this time Blaine kept watching Kurt’s tape. He kept watching Kurt carrying the camera, pointing it to his face, talking to the lens and sharing what he learned that day. He taught Blaine what berries he could eat and which he shouldn’t, Blaine learned the importance of erasing his own tracks. Before Blaine knew it two days had passed and he had spent those days doing nothing but watching Kurt’s face, hearing his voice, and eating what he had left.

It was hard to keep a grip on that what made him human. If you’d look at it in a certain way, he was resorted to nothing but an intelligent zombie, wasn’t he?

When Blaine switched on Kurt’s camera again and watched him break down, he realized Kurt felt the same way.

_‘I feel like an animal. I’ve been doing nothing but killing, eating and sleeping.’_

Kurt paced back and forth, his knees shaking, his hands going through his hair. He looked even worse than before. His lip was split, his cheek bruised up, he had a rather large gash on his neck and his pale skin was tinged darker with dirt and whatnot. His clothes were torn and dirty, his hair a mess. In all of his earlier recordings there had been an odd sort of optimism and sarcasm to his voice, but now, he just sounded hollow. Blaine knew the feeling like no one else and he dreaded what Kurt was about to say next.

Kurt abruptly stopped and kneeled down in front of the camera.

 _‘Please, I – I_ can’t –’ Kurt shook his head to himself like he realized pleading won’t help and lowered his eyes. A sob wracked his frame and he cursed and kicked against a tree. _‘I won’t go on like this anymore! I swear to God – I swear, I swear – I’m going to fucking kill myself, I can’t_ do  _this!’_

He almost looked like a child throwing a tantrum, his eyes wild. Blaine’s stomach just dropped.

 _‘I am_ not  _doing this,’_ Kurt decided. He was crying now. _‘How can I –_ why?  _Tell me why I should go on and keep killing people – moms and dads and kids. Tell me!’_

No answer came to Kurt. Kurt took deep breaths and sat himself right down in front of the camera, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and pressing a gun against his temple. Blaine had no idea where Kurt got the gun from, couldn’t recall Kurt stating he had found one in his earlier recordings, but he felt bile rise in his throat. Was this it? Had Kurt actually killed himself right where he was in Blaine’s reach?

Kurt remained perfectly still for a couple of seconds, his face determined.

But just when his finger tightened on the trigger, something knocked over Kurt’s camera and Kurt’s surprised shout rung through the air. His feet were joined by another pair of feet, and then there were gunshots and growls of zombies. More feet joined – tattered shoes, bare, dirty, wounded feet shuffling forwards. Kurt kept screaming and shooting.

And then the camera went off.

It was the end of the tape.

 

* * *

Days passed after this.

The wake of Kurt’s sweet voice left an emptiness inside of Blaine. He was mourning over someone he had never even met before and it made Blaine feel silly, but he couldn’t help it. Kurt had, in a way, been his companion. He had protected and talked to Blaine when Blaine needed him to and even though Blaine could always rewind the tape, it was no use. He could almost mouth along every word Kurt uttered by the end of the week, and by the end of the month Blaine felt perhaps even lonelier than he had ever felt before.

Blaine was sad and tried to forget Kurt. It couldn’t be done when all these questions haunted his mind.

What had happened to Kurt? Where was he now? Was he hurt, was he afraid, was he as lonely as Blaine was? Blaine had to wonder to himself how the camera had ended up in a supermarket and then mused to himself that someone before him most likely had found it, and then lost it.

Sometimes, Blaine regretted finding the camera dearly. But then he’d clutch it to his chest at night and listen to Kurt ramble about traps and food, and forget all about that. Blaine was obsessed with the image of Kurt inside of his mind. He missed Kurt and he had never even known him in person.

Blaine wondered what life would’ve been like if he had met Kurt before all of this.

 _‘Wow – are those… Oh my God, they’re actually raspberries!’_ Kurt exclaimed happily before telling his sole viewer to clean them with boiled water and then boil the water again to keep from wasting any of it, ‘ _I haven’t had these in years!_ ’

Blaine cried himself to sleep that night because the only friend he ever had was most likely dead, and he genuinely didn’t see a point in this anymore.

 

* * *

_Bang, bang._

A dull thud followed the wake of Blaine’s gunshots and he ran as fast as he could when more zombies started chasing him – their gaze hungry, their tattered flesh almost an uniform as they battled against all that was good and kind.

There was one zombie in particular that was getting close to Blaine. She was wearing a torn cheerleader costume and she was missing a couple of fingers and an ear, her legs bruised and scraped up and her nails so long they almost resembled claws. The stench of their rotting bodies made Blaine sick to his stomach and there was so much screaming around him that he was dizzy with it all.

He’s been becoming more and more reckless lately, just not seeing the point of fighting for his life anymore. But it seemed like his body had other plans.

As Blaine ran through the streets of Lima, Ohio and turned every now and then to shoot one of them, he was only vaguely aware of the rain pouring down on him, the aching of his lungs, the strain on his legs. He was growing tired and they were closing in on him – he was nowhere near his car. He’s been so stupid and Blaine thought vaguely to himself that this could be it. Maybe he was finally going to die today and be put out of his misery.

It was stupid to come here. It was stupid to think that maybe Kurt had returned to his hometown after being attacked.

It was stupid to even  _care._

Blaine turned a corner and released a cry of frustration when he slipped, quickly shooting the nearest zombie in the kneecaps and then desperately turned his head to look for a way out. There was none. There was only a house a couple of feet away and Blaine was unsure if he could reach it in time and what horrors would be waiting for him there.

Whimpering, Blaine scrambled to his feet and started running again. He shot the lock of the front door, nearly tore the door off its hinges and then slammed the door shut once he was inside and was quick to shove a near piece of furniture (a drawer) against it. He winced at the sound of their pounding fists against the door and closed his eyes.

It was dark inside. He couldn’t tell if the curtains were drawn or if the windows had been nailed shut but either way, Blaine doubled over, panting. He was in such a horrible position. He wasn’t going to make it, Blaine just knew it. He thought to himself, with bitter amusement, that maybe it was for the best this way. If someone as smart as Kurt hadn’t survived, then what would make Blaine be any different when he was so much more reckless?

And all the while, he couldn’t help but feel bitter disappointment at not even having found Kurt’s body here. He had hoped so dearly that somehow Kurt had been okay -

He spun around when the lights flickered on. and was quick to aim his gun up again to protect himself with shaking hands and tear-filled eyes. His lips were quivering and his cheeks felt flushed with either extortion or because he was growing emotional again. Blaine thought to himself that he might as well let this zombie have him. There was no one left for Blaine to be with anymore.

But who he found staring back at him was far from a zombie.

There were wide blue eyes staring into his and the sleek black shotgun clasped in pale hands wasn’t intimidating at all. Blaine’s entire body was still in shock, his own gun clattering to the wooden floorboards.

Out of all the places he could be, he was here.

Kurt was actually alive.

Blaine would recognize that hair from anywhere. He would recognize Kurt’s shoulders, Kurt’s nose – his everything at all times when Kurt was all he had clung onto for so long. Kurt’s posture was tense, but everything was okay. Kurt was  _alive_ and never had Blaine been happier to see anyone before. The feeling of happiness felt foreign and almost intimidating because it was just so  _strong,_ and there was so much of it. His entire body felt warm as Kurt blinked his eyes at Blaine and then the gun at his feet. It didn’t even occur to Blaine that Kurt was probably wondering if he should kill Blaine or not.

Blaine wasn’t the only one left. Kurt was still here, he was okay, he had returned home like Blaine had thought he would.

‘Say hello to me,’ Kurt whimpered finally, his voice raw in a way Blaine could completely relate to. For a moment they just stared at each other, sizing each other up, the both of them hoping that the other wasn’t infected. There was a desperate tone in Kurt’s voice, his lips trembling, his hands trembling around his gun. He hadn’t mentioned finding one in one of his videos, Blaine vaguely reminded himself. ‘ _Please_ – say something.’

‘H-hey,’ Blaine just managed weakly in a wavering voice.

It had been a sheer amount of will that kept Blaine from instinctively popping a couple of bullets into Kurt’s kneecaps, his hands twitching by his sides when the other teen all but flung himself into Blaine’s arms and started  _bawling._

For a moment Blaine did not know what to do or say – he’s been so estranged from humanity for so long.

‘Thank you,’ Kurt chanted, ‘thank you, thank you, thank you – I don’t even know your name, but  _thank you._ ’

‘It’s Blaine,’ Blaine stupidly offered. He was surprised at how choked up his voice sounded. He hadn’t spoken in weeks, probably months even. Kurt sobbed and nodded, kept clinging to him. Blaine’s chest started feeling tight and he wrapped his arms around Kurt, tears finally spilling down his cheeks.

He hasn’t had a loving embrace in years and it felt so right, so okay to be in Kurt’s arms right now.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay Kurt,’ he found himself mumbling. His mind still hasn’t quite overcome the initial shock of actually being around another  _person_ again and Kurt pulled away a bit, looking at Blaine with bloodshot eyes. There was a pink scar on his neck but other than that he didn’t look as battered as Blaine had expected him to be. He looked okay, actually.

‘How – how do you know my…?’ Kurt brought out, sniffling almost pathetically. Blaine managed a watery smile and clasped their hands together, amazed by the soft texture of Kurt’s skin and how  _gorgeous_ he looked. Kurt was actually here. he was untouched, he had feelings, he wasn’t hungry for Blaine’s flesh.

‘Your camera,’ Blaine just managed to say. Kurt’s eyes widened and then he nodded, gripping Blaine’s biceps and holding him close again like he couldn’t get enough of Blaine’s body heat. Blaine probably looked disgusting – he was probably covered in blood and gore and sweat, but Kurt didn’t seem to mind at all. He was nothing short of grateful for Blaine’s presence and Blaine couldn’t even begin to explain what was going through him. He wanted to tell Kurt that he had come looking for him, that Kurt had saved Blaine’s life even if he didn’t know it, that Blaine had fallen in love with him even if he hadn’t even met Kurt yet and that Blaine had been ready to die when he thought Kurt had been killed.

But he couldn’t. Blaine’s entire body was in shock.

‘My video diary,’ Kurt whispered with a weak, bitter laugh. They gazed at each other and Blaine’s chest started feeling fuzzy, his lips moving but his mouth not making a sound. Eventually he flashed Kurt a boyish grin, one that made his cheeks strain because he hasn’t smiled genuinely in over a year, probably, but his grin faded off his face when a window cracked and the moaning of zombies tried to get in.

‘We have to go,’ Blaine stated and without even thinking twice he started tugging Kurt deeper in the house, looking for what he thought was the backdoor. Once they were outside, Kurt blinked into the sunlight and Blaine sighed gratefully when he noted the fence was broken. Kurt must’ve been living very quietly, if the zombies hadn’t found him yet.

Blaine paused briefly when he caught sight of a sleek motorcycle and Kurt grinned at him, pulling out the keys from his pocket and putting them into the ignition.

‘Hop on,’ Kurt called over the roaring of the motorcycle between his legs. Blaine was amused to find that Kurt was breaking one of his own rules by trusting Blaine, but eventually the zombies were coming too close. He got on behind Kurt and wrapped his arms around him, not having the slightest idea where Kurt was taking him, until he gave Kurt the directions to his cabin.

They drove around, Kurt said a couple of stupid things that made Blaine laugh. He couldn’t remember ever having laughed this way before the virus had spread.

And just like that, everything fell into place.

 

* * *

They fell in love, they made love, they yelled and screamed, they killed. Kurt induced feelings in Blaine that made him feel human once more. The sole need to survive now wasn’t the only thing on Blaine’s mind, which was essentially what used to make him so alike the monsters he killed.

‘I’m so glad you found my camera,’ Kurt whispered one night, his head pillowed on Blaine’s stomach. They were staring at the stars, lying on top of the van they had stolen after their motorcycle stopped working. It was a warm September night.

It was about a year ago since they first met.

Blaine hummed and thread his fingers through Kurt’s hair.

‘You know, I expected you to be shorter,’ Blaine murmured. Kurt snorted. ‘And you trust me. You broke one of your own rules.’

‘I guess so, but then again, I wasn’t very useful when you found me and I’m really not now.’ Kurt frowned a bit at the darkness. He raised a hand and splayed out his fingers, crooking them, just staring at them. Blaine stared at his fingers too. From their position it looked like Kurt was holding the moon.

_‘Do not trust anyone. They’ll use you and then leave you off to die as soon as they get the chance. I don’t care if he or she is cute – they might be infected for all you know. Do not. Trust anyone.’_

‘Turns out you  _do_ care if he is cute,’ Blaine finally drawled, covering Kurt’s hand with his own, wanting to distract Kurt from whatever thought it was that worried his mind. The worried expression slid off Kurt’s face and he grinned.

‘Yeah, and he’s not.’

‘Oh?’ Blaine asked. Kurt wrinkled up his nose and rolled over, straddling Blaine’s hips, still holding his hand. Blaine loved holding hands with Kurt. He loved feeling the warmth of Kurt’s body seep into his own because it was something he never had before.

‘No – yesterday he killed some little brat with barbed wire. Ripped her head clean off.’ Killing was still hard to them, but less so than before. Now they even managed to joke around when things got too heavy.

‘I can quite recall that said little brat tried to munch your fingers off like popsicles on a hot summer day.’

Blaine’s eyebrow rose and Kurt chuckled. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against the corner of Blaine’s mouth.

‘My knight in bloadsoaked jeans,’ Kurt purred, smiling happily when Blaine’s hands settled on his hips. Blaine tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth and grinned. ‘My happily ever after.’

‘You know that tomorrow you’ll just be yelling at me again,’ Blaine murmured, mindful of Kurt’s moodswings. He got that way, they both did. They were so used to killing whatever got in their way that they had become savages, everything and everyone was no longer valuable to the two of them. They were both damaged, had both seen too many things that had changed them for good. Destroying what they had really was the only way they could cope. It was a miracle they hadn’t killed each other just yet.

‘Then I guess that you’ll just have to drag me back kicking and screaming,’ Kurt simply replied. Blaine’s thumbs smoothed over Kurt’s eyebrows until the frown that had formed there was gone. They kissed again, properly this time. They tasted of the mint leaves they’d been chewing on earlier.

‘I care for you,’ Kurt murmured, their equivelant of  _I love you._ There was no telling if they loved each other or just clung onto one another in a vain attempt at saving that was still human inside of them. Blaine suspected it was both and he nodded, holding Kurt, kissing him harder.

‘I know,’ he murmured when they broke apart, feeling how hard Kurt was for him already. They were rocking their hips together, their moans muffled. ‘Me too.’

‘Narcissistic,’ Kurt chided and he shivered when Blaine’s hands slid into his torn jeans, cupping the smooth flesh of his bottom. Blaine simply sucked on a small spot behind Kurt’s ear and rolled them over so that he was on top. He peeled their clothes off their bodies, mindful to keep from flinging it over the van. They were just going to make this quick.

Kurt smiled and pressed their bodies together once more, skin on skin, wincing when Blaine slid inside of him without anything to slick his way. He clutched Blaine’s biceps and closed his eyes tightly, burying his face in Blaine’s neck. Blaine thought that, while he made a few hushing noises to try to keep Kurt quiet, that Blaine had used Kurt for a lot of things.

Blaine had used Kurt as a way to keep his own sanity. He had used Kurt as his companion, he had used Kurt as a way to justify his own acts. There were a lot of things that Blaine had taken of him and truly, he had given Kurt nothing in return.

He slowly started moving until Kurt stopped whimpering at every thrust and then sped up his pace.

There was no sense of justice in the world anymore. Blaine no longer saw himself or the world in the same way he used to but sometimes, the old Blaine still shone through. It only showed in the small things Blaine did, though, like singing Kurt to sleep when he was having a nightmare, in the way he kissed Kurt, in the way he would die for Kurt.

Kurt’s choked little noises spurred him on, his grip on Kurt’s hips tightening until he bruised the poor boy.  _His._ Kurt really was all that was his.

Essentially, Kurt was just a possession of Blaine. His to hold, his to talk to, his to take,  _his._

And Kurt was also his to bury 22 years later.


End file.
